Why I cannot write a bonkbuster

(Despite everyone suggesting it as the key to instant publication and gratification)

First of all, because at the centre of every stupid bonkbuster is a girl (always a girl, never a women) who, while being a ditzy, hot-mess manic-pixie-dreamgirl somehow manages to hold down A VERY IMPRESSIVE JOB. And while working as a journalist/interior designer/actor/music producer/chef – and despite the fact that she regularly finds herself locked out/spilling coffee on vital documents/getting dressed in a rush and ending up in inappropriate high heels plus too tight skirt at VERY IMPORTANT MEETINGS, she does not lose her job because she is actually brilliant and no-one judges her; at least, no-one apart from COOL OFFICE BLONDE who goes out of her way to make things difficult and is not ditzy but very mean and bitter. In fact, she is so jealous and hateful that she sometimes makes Ditzy Dreamgirl cry.

To balance things out, SUPPORTIVE MALE COLLEAGUE gives Dreamgirl a shoulder to cry on and a chance to explain important plotpoints that might otherwise escape the reader. He enjoys dishing the dirt on their old-fashioned, inappropriate boss, but is clearly ‘not boyfriend material’ because he is a screamingly camp metrosexual. Dreamgirl also has a FLATMATE who is successfully negotiating an equally improbable career-path while nursing an incipient alcohol problem and looking after a grandmother/dog/car that is clearly on its last legs and can be counted on to cause regular crises so Ditzy Dreamgirl can show her caring and compassionate side while still being late for work.

Plot twist! Dreamgirl has a meeting with the company’s NEWLY INSTALLED, HIGH-POWERED BOSS on whom her job as journalist/interior designer/actor/music producer/chef now depends. Due to a highly engineered improbably mix-up, Dreamgirl mistakes him for the janitor and/or makes incorrect assumptions about his motivations and rushes to hastily worded judgement while wearing inappropriately sexy clothing. All this is INCREDIBLY AWKWARD because new boss is a God-man with hard muscles straining out of immaculate shirt, a chiselled chin and bluest eyes anyone has ever seen. Also, he smells nice. It should be noted that Dreamgirl’s character assessments are unerringly wrong and she has no talent for self-reflection. This does not seem to trouble her.

Folowing this, more shenanigans and misunderstandings take place in an increasingly heated atmosphere of CONSTRAINED MUTUAL LUST where a lot of things throb and pulsate and there is more panting than breathing going on. Despite pulsating God-man being literally the Dreamgirl’s boss, readers (and the ditzy flatmate) are assured that this is not sexual harrassment because dreamgirl’s supposedly vital role in the company gives her some kind of parity with the man who is quite literally in charge – although, to be fair, God-boss seems to have a fairly vague grasp of his job and what it entails (aside from clenched cheekbones and penetrating stares). Let’s just say that not much work gets done and windows are permanently steamed up.

Plot twist! Just as a company conference in a hotel looms and CONSUMATION SEEMS INEVITABLE, Dreamgirl decides – based on one of her usual spectacular leaps of misunderstanding – that God-boss already has a secret girlfriend/fiancee/wife. Instead of sensibly asking him if that is the case, she goes FULL STALKER MODE and finds evidence to confirm her hunch. So when her annoying ex-boyfriend turns up, she is so full of self-righteous anger that she sleeps with him. By the time she discovers God-boss’s girlfriend/fiancee/wife is actually his sister/deceased best friend’s widow/aunt, she’s already picking out wedding china alongside increasingly clingy ex.

If only God-boss and Dreamgirl were safely separated like star-crossed lovers, instead of being forced to work in close proximity and see each other daily, particularly now when (Plot twist!) the company’s tumbling profits mean there’s a MAJOR NEW COMPANY DEAL ON THE TABLE which could change everything just as long as the team don’t screw up on their hard-hitting expose of government corruption/opulent makeover of a tycoon’s penthouse/long-awaited stage revival of Charley’s Aunt/underwater music video for new K-pop sensation/first all-vegan Royal banquet. This means God-boss and dreamgirl have to work ever more closely and are now reduced to communicating in inarticulate grunts and groans with a bit of shuddering thrown in.

Then at the last moment, just as the final touches are being made to the MAJOR COMPANY DEAL, the clingy ex/current fiance goes apeshit and attempts to kidnap dreamgirl, nearly scuppering the company’s vital chance of a frontpage scoop/faux marbelling triumph/star-studded opening night/worldwide instagram sensation/launch of all-conquering plantbased food empire.

After that, it turns out that men hitting each other until one of them goes unconscious and the other gets the girl is about as modern and liberated as this genre is going to get. For all these reasons, I CANNOT AND WILL NOT WRITE A BONKBUSTER!